Lykke Li Talks New Album, Wounded Rhymes

The woman who insists "I'm your prostitute, you gon' get some" on charging new single "Get Some" isn't the same "shy, shy, shy" girl who cooed longingly throughout her 2008 debut LP, Youth Novels. Now 24, Lykke Li has done some serious growing up over the last few years, and we'll hear the results when her sophomore album, Wounded Rhymes, is released on March 1 via her own LL Recordings. (Download "Get Some" and non-album ballad "Paris Blue" in exchange for an e-mail address at her site.)

She's currently finishing the album with producer Bjorn Yttling of Peter, Bjorn & John -- when she's not "waking up in cold sweats thinking if this is what I should be doing in my life," that is-- which promises to be a "darker" affair with plenty of African drums, Hammond organ, and girl-group harmonies. And she's keen to revamp her image as a delicate soul into something more powerful. If the propulsive new single wasn't enough, its accompanying video-- which features Lykke Li as a shaman-like leader of a man-crushing cult-- should do the trick.

After decamping to L.A. to write the new record, the Swedish native was back in Stockholm when we called her last week. She was experimenting with a new recipe-- "I think I'm burning my chicken, it's looking kind of weird"-- during the chat, which includes insights on anger, restlessness, and "pussy power." Read the Q&A and check out the tracklist below:

Pitchfork: Your new single "Get Some" is more aggressive musically and lyrically than anything on your first album. Is it indicative of the rest of the record?

LL: It's just a snapshot, but the album is darker, moodier, and the lyrics are heavier. There's less atmosphere, more directness. I was 19 when I recorded my first album, and I've been exposed to many things during these last few years; all the baby fat is gone. I dove into the craziness and did things that maybe I would think twice about when I get older. And I'm a really restless person; I'm tired of the way I sounded or looked yesterday. So it's hard to hang onto this image of me as this young Swedish female in this world. People comment on how you look, it's so unnecessary. I just wanted people to listen to what I have to say instead of focusing on anything else. And, of course, there are a lot of things I'm angry about in the world.

Pitchfork: Like what?

LL: Because you're a woman, the music industry puts you in another corner. I want to be fighting with the men. I want to be amongst the men, topless, throwing things onstage.

Pitchfork: When you sing, "I'm your prostitute," on "Get Some", are you trying to flip typical ideas of empowerment?

LL: Yeah, it's not about being a sex prostitute. It's about this power play in the war of the sexes. It's a rat race, like, "I'm in charge," "No, I'm in charge." A lot of times females are in charge because they kind of have the pussy power. If they say, "I'm you're prostitute," then they mean, "I'm the power."

I was also reading this [Haruki] Murakami book The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle where there's a woman that calls herself a mind prostitute and she goes into this man's mind so he thinks that they're getting it on; he fantasizes about her. They're not doing it, she's just in his mind to steal information.

I wanted the video for "Get Some" to be this do-it-yourself, join-the-cult thing where a woman draws you in, and then bam!-- she's going to crush you.

Pitchfork: Did it annoy you that a lot of people described the sound of your voice on Youth Novels as cutesy?

LL: Yeah, definitely. It seemed like people weren't listening to what I had to say. And I feel like that's probably just a [product of being a] female too, because a lot of the great men that I love suck at singing. I don't think Neil Young has a beautiful voice but it's something that grabs you and the songs are so good. I just felt like I must be some kind of porn dream or something because all they seemed to listen to was my high-pitched voice. I can't help it, you know? It's like I should start this group [called] High-Pitched Women: The Right to Be Yourself.

Pitchfork: Who are some female artists that you've been inspired by over the years?

LL: People like Anaïs Nin, Simone de Beauvoir, Edith Piaf, Patti Smith, Gena Rowlands-- just badass women. Sometimes women are so great and powerful, but then they surrender to these vain things. They kind of fall for it. But I met this amazing woman in Los Angeles who's close to 80 and she's the coolest woman I've ever met. She's open, hungry, and still feels like the key to a good life is finding things that you want to master. I feel it's so important to have strong women around you.

Pitchfork: Why did you choose to go to L.A. to write the new album?

LL: I'm from Sweden so I don't enjoy winter at all; there's nothing cute about it. Right now I'm in Stockholm, and it's so fucking cold and dark. I have such a dark mood in myself already so I don't need things to be darker.

I was totally romanticizing the idea of Los Angeles when the Doors, Joni Mitchell, and Neil Young were hanging out there. I was trying to find David Lynch and Leonard Cohen with no luck. It was just more of a retreat. And Los Angeles is such a mysterious place because there's so much evil in that city, but there's also so much light. You can be totally alone on a hillside and I love that kind of secluded, deserted rawness.

Pitchfork: You spent time in the desert, too. What did you do there?

LL: I hung out with some crazy desert people. One guy was just walking around with only shorts on-- he'd been walking with bare feet for the last two years. He was totally scarred and eating on all fours like a dog. He didn't want to use his hands. You can't stay in the desert, you go nuts after 24 hours.

Lykke Li also shot the film Solarium with director Moses Berkson while in the desert. Watch it below: